


tastes like rain

by maureenbrown



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Rain, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:07:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureenbrown/pseuds/maureenbrown
Summary: No matter how fast Minho runs, he can't evade the downpour of rain and get to his house fast enough. He's normally not this klutzy either, but the water sloshes around inside of his tennis shoes, causing his feet to slip in and out of them every now and then.He attempts to ignore the squelching sounds pounding in his ears, his footsteps booming obnoxiously every time they hit the ground. How had he ever found the rain a comforting sound?Ahead of Minho is a figure, trudging along lonely in the rain, holding a multicolored umbrella above their head, shuffling through the puddles in bright yellow rain boots. Minho snorts quietly; they seem to be a lot smarter than him.





	

No matter how fast Minho runs, he can't evade the downpour of rain and get to his house fast enough. He's normally not this klutzy either, but the water sloshes around inside of his tennis shoes, causing his feet to slip in and out of them every now and then.

He attempts to ignore the squelching sounds pounding in his ears, his footsteps booming obnoxiously every time they hit the ground. How had he ever found the rain a comforting sound?

Ahead of Minho is a figure, trudging along lonely in the rain, holding a multicolored umbrella above their head, shuffling through the puddles in bright yellow rain boots. Minho snorts quietly; they seem to be a lot smarter than him.  
Once he gets close enough, he recognizes the long, shoulder-length blonde hair and posture, along with his limp.

"Hey!" Minho calls to the other boy, Newt, the attractive guy in his Advanced Literature class, complete with a melodic British accent.

Newt turns his head, his eyebrows shooting up as he moves to the side, waving frantically to signal that Minho should share his umbrella. Minho willingly takes solace in the shelter, no matter how temporary it is.

"Thanks, Newt." He says breathlessly, slowing down to walk at his slower pace. Newt hums in response.

"What're you doing running outside in this weather?" Newt asks, shooting Minho an easy grin.

"I could ask the same to you." Minho says back playfully before smacking Newt's arm lightly, glancing apologetically as he gets splattered with water.

Newt simply shrugs it off, walking so close that their knuckles brush against each other's, their fingertips locking together fleetingly.

"Helps me think, walking out here." Newt says quietly, answering his previous question, Minho straining his ear to hear his calming voice over the pitter patter of the rain.

"Think about what?" Minho inquires.

Straying water drops drip off of Newt's eyelashes like tears, but there's a minuscule smile on his face as he discusses his passion. "My writing."

Minho nods, humming quietly and pressing the back of his palm against Newt's hand, who allows it to stay there. "What do you write about?"

Newt looks up, raising an eyebrow as if he's surprised that Minho's going to ask, or whether he's going to chastise him for it. "It's kinda silly." He explains vaguely.

Minho shrugs passively. "Well, you obviously love doing it. I don't think that's silly at all."

Newt glances at Minho for a little longer, deciding to take his hand completely, looking into his eyes to judge whether it's a fair decision or not. Minho feels flustered, but he nods and squeezes Newt's hand encouragingly, interlacing their fingers after a moment.

"I write fantasy stuff." He confesses like it's no big deal, and Minho's eyes light up as he swings their hands.

"Like Harry Potter?" He asks excitedly.

"Honestly, Minho. Just because I'm British doesn't mean I write Harry Potter fanfiction." Newt says teasingly, and Minho throws his head back when he laughs.

When he glances back at Newt, his eyes are sparkling and he has a good-natured grin on his lips. Minho's heart flutters faster than the rain could ever pelt them.

"Where's your house? I'll walk you there." Newt offers, absentmindedly brushing his thumb across Minho's knuckles.

"You don't have to." Minho assures, though he really would like to spend more time with Newt, even if they're just walking in comfortable silence.

"You don't have an umbrella, and what type of person would I be just to let you wander around? You'd catch a cold." Newt jests playfully, bumping their elbows together.

"Well, if I need a doctor, I'll be sure to call you over." Minho replies, smirking over at the other boy.

Newt hums in response, giggling a moment later, and Minho's mouth works before his brain does.

"You have a really cute laugh." He blurts.

Newt stops, looking a bit surprised, and he splits into another grin, and as he walks Minho home, he moves closer so that their arms are touching. He doesn't even seem to mind that Minho's still sopping wet.

Eventually, Minho gently pokes Newt's side with their still-intertwined fingers, pointing to a house. "That's mine." He murmurs quietly, unwilling to break the spell that was cast over the two.

A tiny frown crosses Newt's face for a moment, but he nods and gives Minho's hand one last squeeze, walking him all the way to the doorway.

They stand underneath Minho's entrance way, keeping their hands pressed together, neither wanting to leave. Newt's colorful umbrella rests on his shoulder, and he looks down at their touch while Minho gazes at his eyes.

"Well, uh… I'll see you at school. Maybe sit by me in Lit sometime." Minho starts, gently letting go of Newt's hands.

Newt nods, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Will do." He murmurs, before taking a step up and pressing his chapped lips against Minho's.

Minho forgets to move and Newt pulls away after a moment, his eyes wide, but he doesn't apologize. Minho isn't one to sputter, so he reaches out and touches the back of the British boys' neck, curling his fingers in the tips of his hair, drawing him closer so that their lips touch once more.

Newt sighs against his lips, and Minho can feel a small smile into the kiss, which makes him grin as well. They stand outside of Minho's front door for a while, kissing and doing nothing more, Newt's hands finding their way around his waist.

Minho draws away breathlessly, keeping his eyes closed tightly. "Wow." He mumbles intelligently, and Newt's laughter echoes in his head for a while, even after he’s gone.

Newt tastes like the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @sappicmaia !


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